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Wallop. Verb. To beat soundly or thrash. To strike with a vigorous blow. I remember my dad threatening to “wallop” me once when I was a kid. Probably had something to do with the placement of Hot Wheels into an operating garbage disposal. My memory’s a little fuzzy on that one. Let’s move along.

It seems the farther one goes north into the United Kingdom the more things take on a mythic and romantic quality. The wide-open valleys filled with heather, the rugged sloping mountains and hills, the frigid lakes and lochs dotting the landscape… they all seem removed to an ancient time when the world was young and rule was enforced by fire and steel.

I just got back from another quick jaunt over to New Orleans for two days of stellar food, shopping and all things beer-related that just aren’t available in our market. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again lest y’all forget: The Crescent City is a beer-lover’s Mecca. Even the divey-est of neighborhood taverns has hoppy selections from local breweries sharing tap space with the watery macro-mainstays.